One evening at the Officer’s Club, Kellan Walker found himself seated across the table from a Marine Corp reserve officer. Major William Blankenship was an oral surgeon with combined medical and dental degrees. He had volunteered to serve in Viet Nam with the US State Department and the Navy as a surgeon working with American and Vietnamese Special Forces.

During the course of their conversation Kellan happened to mention that we had jumped together with a military sky diving club in San Antonio. Intrigued, the major said he had considered parachuting himself as a way of showing that he could conquer an overwhelming fear of heights. 

Years before, while hiking in the mountains with his wife, he came to a place where the trail narrowed and it was necessary to cross a ledge beside a precipitous drop off. Immobilized with anxiety, he fell to his knees while his wife took his hand and led him across .Haunted by the memory, he became obsessed with finding a way to show that he could overcome his acrophobia. Wearing jump wings would be an overt expression of his courage. 

Major Blankship’s medical liaison was a colonel in the Vietnamese army. If Kellan and I could teach Bill how to jump, his counterpart might be able to arrange for us to parachute with Vietnamese Rangers on a training exercise. By jumping twice he hoped to qualify for Vietnamese jump wings.

And so the saga began. Kellan and I passed on what knowledge we had, then spent a few days  practicing parachute landing falls off sand dunes on the beach at Nha Trang.

Next came the task of finding larger American T-10 parachutes. The 101st Airborne had a detachment in Nha Trang so we casually sauntered over and asked if we could borrow some chutes. Puzzled by the request from three unlikely looking medical officers, the supply sergeant’s initial response was not only no, but “Hell No”. After thinking about it, he changed his mind and said their paratroopers had not jumped for some time. If we could persuade the Vietnamese Rangers to include a dozen men from the 101st, we might be able to work something out.

The day came and we joined a military convoy for a ten kilometer ride into the countryside northwest of Nha Trang. The landing zone was located in the middle of an elevated area surrounded by rice paddies. When the helicopters came in Blankenship told the American jump master that he would probably be reluctant to jump. “Regardless”, he said, “do whatever it takes”.  

I was sitting next to him as we arrived over the drop zone and watched him freeze with fear. Blankenship dug his heels in and grabbed the canvas straps on the aluminum frame that served as our seats. The jump master wasn’t big but he was strong. He took the major by his boot, dragged him across the helicopter floor and threw him out. After all, a deal was a deal. We landed safely and the first thing Bill said was “That was great. Let’s do it again.” He needed a second jump to qualify for the wings. 

Bill returned to the United States a week later. I had no interest in wearing jump wings but I promised him that I would stop by the 5th Special Forces headquarters and ask them to complete the paper work. Unfortunately, the sergeant refused saying it was not a sanctioned jump. I apologized to the major in a letter and didn’t contact him again for almost 45 years.

In 2009, I found his personal information on line and called him at his home on Padre Island near Corpus Christi a year before his death. We had a long conversation. He clearly remembered me and our jumping experience with the Vietnamese Rangers. Once again I said I was sorry for not completing the paperwork for his Vietnamese jump wings.

He told me not to worry about it. He had gone back on active duty as a Navy Submarine Medical Officer and wore the wings anyway. I found it interesting that he could descend to claustrophobic depths easier than he could parachute from 3,000 feet. It didn’t bother me that he wore the wings because I was a witness to his jumps and I understood why he wanted to display them on his uniform. I felt better after he mentioned that he eventually qualified for Army parachute wings at Fort Benning, GA.

Before signing off, he asked about Kellan. I was sorry to tell him he had passed away.